


I would like to sleep with you, to enter your sleep

by babybirdsitter



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Fluff, M/M, basically viktor just mulling over how much he loves yuuri in 1500 words
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-10
Updated: 2017-05-10
Packaged: 2018-10-30 06:45:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,623
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10871280
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/babybirdsitter/pseuds/babybirdsitter
Summary: Viktor is an early riser. On the morning of their wedding, Yuuri is, as always, sleeping in.





	I would like to sleep with you, to enter your sleep

**Author's Note:**

> I was supposed to be finishing up course work for grad school, but this happened instead. I'm not sure if it's any good because this thing just ran away from me and never stopped writing itself.

 

> **_I would like to follow_ ****_  
> _** **_you up the long stairway_ ****_  
> _** **_again & become_ ****_  
> _** **_the boat that would row you back_ ****_  
> _** **_carefully, a flame_ ****_  
> _** **_in two cupped hands_ ****_  
> _** **_to where your body lies_ ****_  
> _ ****_beside me, and you enter_ ****_  
> _** **_it as easily as breathing in_**
> 
> **_from Variation on the Word Sleep by Margaret Atwood_ **

 

Viktor doesn't decide to wake up early. His body does it for him, having been so used to doing it for at least the last two decades of his life. It's not that he particularly enjoys being up at the crack of dawn. But it happens anyway, the same way his lungs breathe for him or the way the sun always rises wherever he finds himself in the world—whether in Saint Petersburg a week ago, or in Hasetsu now, in the middle of its humid summer.

Of course, for an athlete of his calibre, part of it has been borne out of necessity. It's been a year since he's retired, sure, but it would have been impossible to stop while still staying on as Yuuri's coach. The man is a rock in the morning, his body a heavy, unwieldy thing underneath the covers, unmoved by and ambivalent to even the loudest of alarm clocks. If Viktor doesn't get up early for the both of them, if he doesn't take over the responsibility of nudging him back to the land of the living every morning, well, there’d be far fewer medals between them to boast of.

He smiles at this as his eyes flutter open. He remembers all the absurd methods he’d had to deploy just to wake Yuuri up on time, one of them involving Makkachin and peanut butter slathered on toes. Accepting defeat and giving up on sleep altogether, he finally welcomes the soft light coming from the window as it floods his sense of sight. 

Today is no different than any other day, at least when it comes to his sleeping schedule.

He should get up and move, look for something productive to do before the wave of activity starts to hit. He could get a head start on decorating the onsen. He could iron his suit, and work on Yuuri’s, too. Hell, he could even use a shave.

But he really doesn’t want to move.

Viktor is conscious of the arm that’s draped across him, and the warm body that it belongs to. He is conscious of the big lump of fur at the foot of the bed. His body feels heavy with the love that’s somehow stuck him into this bed overnight that he wants to indulge himself just this once.

The room is a bit brighter now. Viktor would fish for his phone and check the time, but he’s sure it’s either stuck underneath Yuuri’s pillow or he’d somehow kicked it off the bed. He looks around the room instead, wondering if he can somehow discern the time by the way the shadows hit the walls. It’ll be a fruitless endeavor, of course, but Viktor looks around anyway.

They’ve been in Hasetsu for a week, but between accommodating the guests flying in for their wedding and helping Mari with the flowers and making sure Hiroko has all the ingredients she needs for the feast she’d insisted on preparing herself, neither of them has had the time to actually unpack their suitcases. It’s mainly his fault that they’ve brought so many stuff with them and he’s thankful that Yuuri’s parents went through the trouble of setting up the room he used here because he doubts they’d be able to fit in his fiance’s old bedroom.

Yuuri had, of course, chided him for it when they had to lug a total of five suitcases (“Five, Viktor! _Five_!”), a carry-on bag each and an unusually hard-headed Makkachin with them when they reached the train station. Viktor couldn’t feel too bad about it, though. Most of the stuff they have are gifts for their guests, and the only reason Yuuri felt cross was because he was jetlagged and Viktor had been the one in charge of the shopping list.

That’s one of the things he likes most about being with Yuuri. It’s a small thing, but Viktor likes it when Yuuri argues with him. He likes that Yuuri gets irritated when pushed too hard and he’s running low on sleep or caffeine. He likes that—after they've said everything they could about lost socks or dirty dishes or bringing too much luggage for their wedding —Yuuri always comes back to him, relaxing into his tentative hugs and burying his face in the crook of his neck, offering apologies through soft kisses.

He remembers a time when Yuuri was always clamming up and retreating into the recesses of his anxiety, with him feeling too afraid to pry him open.

He remembers Barcelona, his eyes hot and spilling tears as Yuuri tried to push him out of his skating, his life.

He remembers their move to Saint Petersburg and how it had been tough and fraught with nights where they alternated sleeping on the couch.

He remembers one particular night when—after failing to land half of the jumps in his short program during practice—Yuuri had refused to even look him in the eye all throughout dinner.

That night, the only thing that punctuated the silence in their apartment was Makkachin whining for a share of their meatballs and the high-pitched clanging of silverware against plates. Viktor had been so, so sure that the next thing he was going to hear out of Yuuri was a declaration that he wanted to go back home to Japan. So he barely ate anything, preoccupied with forming words to preempt his.  

He could almost hear Yuuri saying, “I’m holding you back. I don’t belong here.”

And he’d been prepared to say that he’ll come to Japan with Yuuri if he has to. He tried the words out in his head as he stabbed a meatball with his fork: “I’ll retire for good. I’ll come with you and I’ll retire for good because there’s no point to doing this if I can’t do it with you.”

Instead, Yuuri pushed his plate aside and said: “You’d tell me if I was holding you back, right? You’d let me know if you didn’t want me here anymore.”

His voice was a soft thing against the palpable tension between them. For a while Viktor had just looked at him, stunned at the departure from the script he’d formed in his head. And then he stood, his chair dragging against the floor with a sigh, and walked to where Yuuri was sitting across the table.  He dropped to the floor and rested his head on Yuuri’s lap.

No more words had been exchanged that night, because Viktor has always been a creature of touch, and his love has always been better said through the open warmth of skin touching skin.

But words _were_ exchanged the next day. Carefully at first, both of them afraid of this new, fragile discovery between them.  More words came in the days that followed, their voices growing stronger, their conviction turning to steel after months of practice. Before they knew it, Yuuri had started complaining about Viktor’s inability to properly separate the laundry, and Viktor is pushing back against any haphazardly formed plans to quit skating and move back to Japan.

Viktor never said it out loud, never said it in words that Yuuri explicitly heard, but it had always been clear to him that if they do choose to return to Hasetsu, it would never be weighed down by the tension that gripped them that one night over dinner.

And it’s true, isn’t it? The decision to get married in Hasetsu was not one up for discussion. It was something both of them knew they wanted, something that perhaps was already decided for them as soon as Viktor found himself in Yuuri’s arms for the first time, as soon as he'd bought that one-way ticket to Japan.

He remembers being spun around and dipped towards the floor, remembers his stomach dropping at the sudden movement, even when he was sure that Yuuri wouldn’t have dropped him. His grace had never betrayed that he was drunk out of his mind on 16 glasses of champagne, although the flush on his cheeks did show that he was just as intoxicated as Viktor had felt.

Tonight, Viktor wants his fiance, his _husband_ , to be as he had been at that banquet, to feel as free to laugh and dance and bring out a freaking stripper pole without having to rely on liquid courage.

He laughs at the thought, at how excited Chris and Phichit would be as they pull out their smartphones, at how absolutely mortified Yura would feel, grumbling beside Otabek before they both get pulled in to join the fun. The laughter comes softly at first and then turns into something fuller, something coming from his stomach, and he doesn’t try to suppress it, even as it causes Yuuri to shift and turn away from him. He hears him grumble, saying something close to his name, but Viktor only follows his movement and spoons right up behind him.

“Yuuri,” he whispers, “I’m getting up now.”

Yuuri doesn’t answer, only flings an arm towards his direction before settling back into his new position.

“Yuuri,” he tries again, muffling his words in a mess of black hair as he buries his face in it. “Do you want breakfast?”

He’s met with another arm flailing about, a groan too soft to actually be threatening, and really, Viktor can’t help but laugh, because this is what he has to look forward to for the rest of his life.

 

**Author's Note:**

> You can read the entire poem [here](https://www.poets.org/poetsorg/poem/variation-word-sleep). :)
> 
> Also I'm on [twitter](https://twitter.com/babybirdsitter)! @ me your thoughts about our favorite happy couple, THE MOVIE THAT WE'RE GETTING, or anything about YOI, really.


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